The Sweeping Saga Collection: Poppy’s Dilemma, The Dressmaker’s Daughter, The Factory Girl. Nancy Carson

tapped her foot impatiently on the stone flags beneath her feet, gazing with longing at The Seven Stars Inn across the road in High Street. ‘That’s where Tom and that Luke have a drink.’ She nodded her head in its direction. ‘We ought to go over when it’s stopped raining and see if they’m in there.’

      ‘I doubt if they’d recognise us now,’ Poppy answered indifferently. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to see Luke. He’s got black teeth. Nor should you want to see Tom.’

      ‘I like Tom,’ Minnie asserted. ‘I’d like him to see me in me new outfit.’

      ‘Anyway, I doubt if you’d find respectable girls going into a public house without a man to go in with.’

      The rain started to ease and many of the people sheltering left and made a dash for it. Minnie walked over to the high wrought-iron railing set in one of the arches and, with her face pressed between two bars, peered through optimistically. A black clarence was being driven past just then, and Minnie caught sight of a middle-aged man looking at her from within. At once he hailed the driver to stop and opened the door. He opened the door, leaned out and beckoned. Minnie glanced at Poppy to see if she had noticed the exchange, but she evidently had not. The man beckoned again and Minnie went towards him, alerting Poppy to this unexpected arrival.

      ‘What d’you want?’ Minnie asked, smiling with curiosity.

      ‘What do you do?’ came the reply.

      ‘What do I do?’ Minnie queried. ‘I think you mean how do you do.’

      The man grinned. ‘I know what I mean, young miss. I ain’t seen you around here before. What’s your name?’

      ‘Minnie. What’s yours?’

      ‘Minnie!’ he repeated, ignoring her question. ‘A pretty name. But then, you’re a very pretty girl. Are you going to come with me? Out of the rain?’

      ‘Where to?’

      ‘Well, we don’t have to go anywhere special. I have a couple of bottles of champagne right here. You look the sort of girl who might appreciate champagne.’

      ‘What’s he on about?’ Poppy asked, on hearing the exchange.

      ‘He’s got summat he calls champagne,’ Minnie whispered out of the side of her mouth. ‘It’s a drink o’ some sort, in’t it?’

      ‘Is it?’

      ‘He wants me to go with him.’ Minnie turned to the man in the clarence. ‘I got me friend wi’ me. Can she come as well?’

      ‘The more the merrier. What’s she like? Is she as pretty as you?’

      ‘Here she is … Show yourself, Poppy. The gentleman wants to see you.’

      Poppy stepped forward and stood by Minnie.

      ‘God’s truth, she’s a dazzler. I’ll give you a shilling each if you’ll come with me.’

      Polly tugged at Minnie’s sleeve with the intention of pulling her away. ‘He thinks we’re street wenches, Min,’ she warned in a hoarse whisper. ‘Come away from him.’

      ‘He’s a toff, Poppy,’ Minnie hissed impatiently. ‘Come on, we can get blathered and it won’t cost we a penny.’

      ‘I don’t want to get blathered.’

      ‘Oh, Poppy … You never want to do anything. You’m never no fun. Come on. You’m coming with me for once.’ Minnie took Poppy’s arm and coaxed her along to the clarence.

      The man smiled and pushed the door wide open for them to enter, then took their hands in turn as he helped them up the iron steps of the carriage.

      ‘So you are Minnie. So, who is your friend?’

      ‘Poppy,’ Minnie answered, settling herself on the plush leather seat, facing the man.

      ‘Minnie and Poppy. Well … How come I’ve never seen either of you two little beauties before?’

      ‘Because we don’t come up the town regular,’ Poppy replied. ‘We’re not street wenches.’

      ‘I’m very relieved to hear it. So … let’s take a little ride out into the countryside and open that bottle of whisky.’ He tapped the roof of the carriage with his cane and they lurched forwards.

      ‘I thought you said champagne.’

      ‘Did I say that? Slip of the tongue.’

      ‘Where are you taking us?’ Poppy enquired. ‘I don’t think I want to go to the countryside.’

      ‘Oh, it’s not far. Don’t worry, Poppy, a little trip to the Oakham Fields will only take us ten minutes at a trot.’

      They did a circuit of the town hall and turned into a narrow road called Hall Street. There was just enough width to drive a carriage through, but folk walking the street had to press themselves against the windows of the shops and public houses that lined both sides to prevent the wheels splashing them in the gutter. Poppy was inclined to ask that they drop her off, but she could not forsake Minnie alone with this stranger, however respectable he seemed. Minnie had to be protected, if only from herself. They drove on, leaving the huddle of Hall Street behind, and pressed on to where the road became wider at Waddams Pool. It was uphill here and the driver allowed the horse to haul the clarence at its own lumbering pace. The rows of shops and little houses petered out and Poppy could see open fields and a flat stretch of road, where the horse then broke into a trot.

      They passed a magnificent house set in its own grounds … then another … and another … For a few moments Poppy was oblivious to the banter already going on between Minnie and this well-dressed man, lost in her own dream world. She was a conscientious maid, dressed in a clean, crisp uniform, employed in one of these fine houses. Of course, she could not have known that one of these fine houses, the one she especially liked the look of, was the home of Robert Crawford.

      They stopped briefly at a toll gate, then pressed on. The horse slowed to a rolling walk once more as it pulled them up Oakham Road’s steady incline. Here it was a grotto overhung with trees, and the drops of rain dripping off the leaves was like gravel falling on the carriage’s roof. Fields, bare and harvested, lay on both sides, with only the occasional fine house now. The driver seemed to know where he was going, and climbed down from his box to open a gate to a field that lay behind a tall hedge, well hidden from the road. Poppy looked at the middle-aged man uncertainly and, as the driver put on the brake, it struck her that this opening of the gate and entering the field was done with the practised slickness that regularity affords. To her surprise, the driver took off his cloak, shook the water off it and entered the carriage.

      ‘So, who have we here, Alfred?’

      ‘Minnie and Poppy. Lovely little popsies too, don’t you think? Minnie and I seem to have a rapport already, James. If you have no objection I’ll stick with her. We can always swap later. Come and sit by me, Minnie …’

      James regarded Poppy with a lascivious interest, looking her up and down. ‘Oh, I think this one’ll do me fine.’ He leered at her. ‘Come here, my flower, and sit close to me. Let me get the feel of you.’

      Poppy obstinately remained where she was while Minnie compliantly crossed to the opposite seat and shuffled close to Alfred with an expectant smile.

      ‘How old are you, little popsy?’ James enquired.

      ‘Sixteen. How old are you?’ There was scorn in her voice.

      He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. ‘It’s of no consequence, little popsy. I’m the one paying the money, so I’ll ask the questions.’

      ‘You’re old enough to be my dad.’

      ‘He might be your dad,’ Alfred quipped. ‘Here, James …’ He handed him the bottle of whisky. ‘I do believe yours needs a slug or two of this to loosen her up.’

      James took